As I Watch The Sun Fuck The Ocean
by Broke Dujor
Summary: Bella is a mafia princess, the daughter of a New York Underboss and the granddaughter of a Don. Her father is one of few that sees the infinite potential of women and secretly raises her as a Made Woman, the probability of her being treated like nothing more than an extension of a future husband, an object, abhorrent to him. Unfortunately The Don doesn't share such feelings.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I'm sure if anybody that is actually in some sort of mafia family ever reads this they would be rolling their eyes at how much I've probably gotten wrong, but I'll try my best. That being said if you are knowledgeable in this way of life and I get something wrong, feel free to correct me. But keep in mind somethings I may have changed on purpose.

I own nothing. Please review.

* * *

I witnessed my first killing at seven years old.

Papa had spent the entire day playing hide-and-seek with me and my twin brother Emmett, a rare occurrence considering how busy he always was. Mama was at the spa or else she would have played with us, too.

In the beginning of the game, we hid in obvious places we, or at least _I_ , knew we could be easily seen; under the dining room table, behind the tapestry with our little feet poking out, under lamp shades. Then I gradually worked my way to more inconspicuous places; under a bed, in a bathroom, in an oven, while Emmett kept on with closets he couldn't quite fit into and underneath couch cushions that kept falling off him. Emmetts' continuously flawed formula ended the game for him quickly each and every time, not that my goofy brother minded, while I became harder and harder to find. It became more than a game to me. At one point it took Papa almost 45 minutes to find me in the attic behind forgotten boxes.

 _"Well, well, you are a sly little girl aren't you, Beautiful?" Papa smiled hugging me to his chest, squeezing into the cramped attic with me_.

 _His familiar scent of tobacco and mint, always made me feel cozy and safe. Emmett and I look just like Papa, curly, jet black hair, hazel eyes and ghostly pale complexions. Mama looks like sunshine, with golden blonde hair, baby blue eyes and pretty, tanned skin. Pure sunshine. I love papa, but I'd always wished I looked like mama._

" _Your beginning hiding places were just for show, weren't they?" He hugged me tighter. "Warm-ups; leading me astray mentally, so when you_ really _started hiding, I'd only think to find you in superficial places."_

 _I just giggled and played with the gold chains around his neck, not quite understanding what 'superficial' meant, but knowing he caught on to my plan._

" _Weren't you bored up here?" He questioned, looking around the dark, cluttered room._

 _"No, I was on a mission." I giggled again, happy that he seemed to be impressed with me._

 _"But you seem to become bored with your dance lessons quite easily, and they are, in a way, a mission."_

 _That made me pout up at Papa._

 _"Dancing is worthless, Emmy gets to be with you, learning the business, while I'm stuck doing Ballet."_

 _Papa sighed deeply._

 _"The Business is no place for a girl." I rolled my eyes, having heard this a hundred times from everyone in the family. But Mama told me there have been women with large rolls in 'The Business' before, so I think I'm just being lied to._

 _"It's not fair."_

 _He just stared at me, not saying anything, his expression unreadable._

 _"Come now, beautiful, let's find you something to eat, you must be famished from working your mission." I knew he just wanted to change the subject, he always did, but I let him, 'cause I_ was _starving._

 _Later that night, while we were watching a movie, Papa received a call; he spoke in hushed tones, anger marring his handsome face. It was a look Emmett and I knew all too well. Someone had to be_ dealt _with._

 _When Papa was done talking he walked over to us and sat down, hugging us to him, again. Emmett started crying._

 _"Why are you sobbing, son?"_

 _Emmett just hugged Papa harder, crying harder too._

 _"I don't want to see-" Emmet began, but Papa didn't let him finish._

 _"You are a man, son, a man of the mafia, you will do your duty." He never spoke cruelly but his words were inarguably final._

 _I huffed, completely infuriated._

 _"Whatever it is, I bet it's better than stupid dancing."_

 _Emmett cried harder and Papa gave me the same look from the attic._

 _The doorbell rang loud and clear through our large mansion._

 _"Emmett, go wash your face and make yourself presentable, now." Papa ordered._

 _He ran off, not daring to argue, no matter how miserable he felt._

 _Stupid boy, at least he doesn't have to do ballet. It's so unimportant and just . . . dumb._

 _"Beautiful?" Papa whispered, the doorbell sounding throughout the house again._

 _I looked up with angry eyes, jealous of my brother. Why couldn't I have been born a boy? Being a girl sucks, you can't do anything._

 _"You like to sneak around the house, don't you?" He asked, out of nowhere._

 _What a weird question; An_ incriminatingly _, weird question._

 _I kept silent and looked away, not wanting to get in trouble for being a stupid unladylike snoop._

 _Papa surprised me by laughing._

 _"You especially like to sneak around in my office, don't you?"_

 _I looked away again. Does he see everything I do? I hope he doesn't know about kitty._

 _"Speak up, I want an answer this time, Isabella." Uh oh, real name, time to be serious, "I assume you've found the walk way behind the large oil painting of your mother?"_

 _"Yes, sir." I answered, looking up at him with my best, 'I'm sorry, daddy expression.' Jutted lip, big, innocent eyes; my best pitiful look._

 _He smiled at me and kissed my forehead._

" _Go hide behind the painting, now."_

 _I didn't think twice, just followed his orders. I ran as fast as I could, my little legs nothing to write home about, but I got to Papas' office, and pushed on the ordinary looking oil painting of my pretty mother. It popped open and I stepped in the man-made inner pathway and closed the secret door._

 _Usually in the movies there's a sliding panel you pull at the eyes of the painting, so you can look through. Papa thought it was too cliche and completely obvious so instead he camouflaged the whole painting on this side to look more like a see through partition. Like the ones at church in the confessional that my Grandpapa makes me go into every Sunday, but undetectable from the other side._

 _It's slightly muted, but I can see clearly thought it, into Papas' large office. I knew I had to wait patiently, Papa gave me a mission and I won't disappoint him._

 _I didn't have to wait long before Papa, Emmett and three other men walked into the room. Two were wearing suits and leading the other in who was in dirty, bloody, street clothes. Capos and a foot soldier._

" _Listen, boss-" the raggedy soldier croaked out._

 _"Listen? The boy orders me to listen?" Papa spoke slowly and deeply, his no nonsense tone like a blistering heat, wafting across the room._

 _Oh, that is a bad tone to be on the wrong side of, I should know._

 _Papa isn't the Don, my Grandpapa James, his father, is. Papa is the underboss, second in command. But just because he's second in command doesn't mean you can speak to him like you're his buddy._

'Listen boss.'

 _'The nerve telling him what to do, this man should be talking to him with the same respect as he would the Don._

 _"Please, will you forgive me?" He begged with wide, terrified eyes._

 _Papa sits at his desk, Emmett standing on his right as the two men in suits put a hand on the gross mans' shoulders, forcing him to kneel on the other side of the desk._

 _"What happened tonight, Michael?" Papa asked in the same way he asked me about sneaking around in his office. He already knows the answer._

 _"I . . . I- uh, it's a . . . "_

 _Emmett began fidgeting. He's tall for a seven year old, much taller than me, so I can see his face from over the large desk but that's it. I bet he's wringing his hands together, it's a nervous tic of his, sadly._

 _"I heard whispers about you, boy." Papa spoke softly._

 _The man, Michael, started to panic, breathing hard, folding in on himself, trying to look as small and unapposing as possible._

 _I knew what was going to happen. Everyone knew what was going to happen, including the dead man, kneeling at my Papas' feet._

 _He started sobbing how sorry he was, not denying whatever it is he's accused of, probably some kind of treachery, maybe selling secrets. Foot soldiers are known to do that quite often from what I've heard._

 _Before I could process what Papa was doing, he'd shot Michael in the head, right between the eyes. I'm sure blood splattered all over the floor and on the suited men, but that wasn't what I was focused on, I don't think I could handle it yet so I didn't look too closely. No, my focus was on Emmett and Papa. Emmett looked like he wanted to cry again, but is holding it together mostly, and Papa looked . . . completely unaffected._

 _"Dispose of the body."_

 _"You got it, Charlie." One of the Capos answered with a sickly chuckle. Unlike Papa he seemed to have enjoyed what just happened._

 _The suited men dragged Michael away. I caught a look of his face, his eyes wide and terrified even in death. I feel sick._

 _"Emmett?" Papa whispered._

 _"Yes?" He replied, his voice cracking._

 _"I'm proud of you." Papa didn't look at Emmett. I think he could tell if his son looked him in the eye, he'd start crying again._

 _"May I be excused?" He's close to losing it._

 _"You may." Emmett shot out of the room, faster then I thought possible. He should join the track team at school._

 _Papa walked over to the painting, pushed and opened it for me to come out. He didn't say anything, just held out a hand for me, walked me over to his desk, stepping over blood staining the carpet, and sat me up on it while he retook his chair. The leather made a weird sound when he sat down._

 _"Do you know why I shot that man?"_

 _"Michael?" I don't know why I asked, it's not like he killed anyone else. Today._

 _"Yes, Michael."_

 _"You didn't really say why, before you did it."_

 _"True, if you had to guess, why do you think I shot him?" Papa waited patiently for my reply._

 _"He betrayed the family." I was finally able to say after swallowing the lump in my throat._

 _"You are correct. How did it make you feel, seeing me shoot him?" He asked, smoothing a big hand through my curly hair. Hair just like his._

 _"At first it scared me, I knew it was what you were going to do, but . . . It still surprised me when you did. I couldn't look at him after you did it."_

 _He nodded for me to go on._

 _"But I knew he had to have had betrayed us, so his death was . . . " I didn't know how to finish my sentence._

 _"Justified?" Papa helped me supply the word._

 _I didn't know what it meant exactly, but if papa said it, it's right._

 _I nodded._

 _"Where did you look when I shot him?"_

 _"You."_

 _"What did you see when you looked at me?"_

" _It seemed like it didn't mean anything to you." I answered carefully._

 _"That's what I looked like, but do you think that's how I felt?" His question confused me._

 _"I don't know." I thought he would tell me how he felt but there was just silence for a long time._

 _"It hurt Emmett to see me shoot him. He almost couldn't keep it together in front of my men." Papa said, finally._

 _I nodded again._

 _"Physically, Emmett will grow to be big and strong, he'll be a star athlete, he'll look like he could literally carry the world on his shoulders."_

 _"How do you know that?" I ask, unable to picture him any bigger than he is now._

 _Papa smiles and puffs his chest._

 _"'Cause he's going to take after his old man in that way." I giggled at my silly Papa, although I don't disagree with him, he does look strong enough._

 _Papas' eyes lose some of their humor._

" _But that's as far as Emmetts' strength will go. Looks and muscles; physical muscles. I need an heir that will have muscles here," he lightly taps my temple, "here," now my heart, "and here," finally my stomach._

 _"What are you saying, Papa? I thought the business is no place for girls?" I ask, not daring to get my hopes too high._

 _He smiles a small, proud smile._

 _"I think that's something we're going to have to rethink."_

PLEASE REVIEW


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I don't think any of my stories have been faved/followed so much so quickly before this one, so thanks for the feed back guys, keep it coming please.

**In response to a few reviewers**

To the guest reviewer, *rolls eyes*, who said "You should have stuck to Ballet Bella" no I shouldn't, I should write what I want to write. Kloveya.

 **HEARTFORTWILIGHT** : thank you so much for recommending my story, I owe ya one! I've had many new follows/favs/reviews because of you, really appreciate it!

**IMPORTANT**

 **ALISON ACTUALLY:** I had the same thoughts about the title, and I even changed it after I had already posted it to something completely different because I was scared with the cuss word in the title it maybe wouldnt be grouped with the other stories, or it'd be hard to find or it'd be pulled, but I decide that this is the title I want, and I'm not going to let fear over anything make the decision for me. If it does get pulled, which I know is a good possibly, I'll repost it as f*ck but until that happens I'm leaving it as is, the title means too much to me to censor it if I don't absolutely have to. Granted not the smartest move but it's the one I'm making, let's just not make a big deal out of it. I truly appreciate the concern and I hope you continue to enjoy my story.

***To those curious about the title, it's the title of one of my favorite songs by a band called Boy Hits Car.

And finally quite a few reviewers foresee Bella one day becoming The boss of her family. Y'all are an ambitious lot, my friends.

* * *

I can feel my Grandfathers' burning, cruel stare like an insect under a magnifying glass. The man has eyes like a demon, filled with heat that can burn you alive if you look long enough. I've never met a person that could stand to look him in his eyes for very long, not even my own father who is the strongest man I've ever known. It's not that Papas' father is stronger than him, just _meaner_.

We've just left Mass and are now dining at Grandpa James' favorite restaurant, _Luna Marie_ , for brunch. 'We' being my Grandparents, parents, brother and me. The food is alright, nothing special, it's the waitresses that make this his favorite restaurant. They're all his concubines. He likes to bring my Grandmother here to rub it in her face what he has waiting for him once her back is turned. She pretends it breaks her heart, but really she's just glad he doesn't go to her for his needs. Or so I _assume_ ; she doesn't really talk much.

"Did you visit the confessional, Isabella?" Grandpa James questions, his voice like mildew, sickly and toxic.

'Fucker saw me walk into the confessional, just like every Sunday since I could talk, so I don't know why he's asking me now.

"Yes, sir."

He nods mutely, his roughly aged face unreadable.

"How's school? You've just begun your senior year, correct?"

Why the hell is he questioning me, usually he doesn't even like talking to me. I look over to Emmett, his usual victim, who unlike the rest of us is robustly eating his meal, completely oblivious of the tension at the table.

"Are you so incompetent you need your brother to answer for you?" He growls, slamming his silverware on the table.

"Father-"

"I wasn't speaking to you, Charles." He snaps like a viper.

I could see Papa preparing to say something else, a kindred fire alight in his own eyes, so I cut him off before a fight breaks out.

"I was just thinking about an exciting science class that Emmett and I share, grandfather."

Emmetts' head snaps up at the mention of his name, some egg falling from his mouth and onto his lap.

"Oh, Yeah, we have this teacher, total _hide-out-in-his-basement-wearing-a-tin-foil-hat_ kinda guy." He chuckles, his unruly hair flopping on his forehead. Papa turned out to be right about Emmett, he's grown to be 6'5", and almost three hundred pounds of pure muscle. If you didn't already know, you'd never think we're twins. I'm mean we _do_ look alike with our pale complexions and thick curly black hair, but he's just so big and I'm _so_ not. But he's still my fun loving, goofy brother. Time hasn't really changed him in that aspect, not like it did me.

Grandfather clicks his tongue and moves his shrewd gaze back to me preparing to interrogate me further.

"James what did you think about the Sermon today?" My grandmother asks softly never looking up from her plate.

"It was fine, Victoria." He growls, now glaring at the red hair shielding her face from his mean gaze. Doesn't take an idiot to know he'd been edged away from the subject, therefore me.

I shoot my Grandma a thankful smile, knowing what that's cost her, but she didn't see it, too involved with her food, daintily picking small bites with her fork.

I feel mama squeeze my hand under the table and turn to her. Her small smile said everything will be ok, but her eyes said the truth.

Something I've learned is that eyes never lie. Well, it's not really the eyes that can't lie, but the soul shining through. I've a theory that our souls, the epitome of an adventurer, can't stand being smothered by our physical skin. They have to be present somewhere.

My mother has the purists soul I've ever seen.

We continue our meal in silence, my grandfather too busy keeping track of his whores to intimidate me any further. It's almost peaceful; until my mother opens her mouth and ruins everything.

"Guess who's here?" She whispers in a sing song voice.

I look to her and see her line of vision is focused in front of us to . . . the Newtons, _oh for fucks sake, not this again._

"He's staring at you, Bella." She giggles lowly, leaning into me, speaking of Mike Newton a guy from my school, a relatively handsome boy. Until he opens his mouth and nothing but vile, misogynistic shit spills out.

I look away not wanting to encourage him. I'd rather encourage Ted Bundy.

"'Trying to eat over here, mother." I hiss back, food in my mouth, not really tasting anything, but really not wanting to talk about Mike Newton.

"And I'm trying to find you a husband so you can be as happy as I am."

I heave a deep, painful sigh. It's times like this were I wish I could just tell her, ' _No need, dad raised me to be a made woman, yeah, that's right mother, I'm all about the crime life. So no husband for this gal, but if you'd like to make me happy, I'd love some ninja stars, daddy won't let me have them, but I think it'd be a cool trademark, thanks, Love ya.'_

That probably won't go over too well, though, I'll just keep it to myself. It's hard though, I've had to live this secret life since that day when I was seven. Papa knew mother wouldn't like it, and maybe wouldn't even have kept the knowledge to herself, so I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. The last thing we wanted was Grandfather to find out and it didn't take me long to figure out why.

Papa had me hide behind the oil painting many more times after that day, to learn everything I could first hand. I'd always known his father wasn't a nice man, but nothing could have prepared me for what monster lay underneath his flesh.

That being said the hardest ones to keep from finding out were my guards. Where I went they went, they're even around the restaurant somewhere, so when Papa wanted to take me anywhere for my lessons it was such a fucking hassle evading them.

But we pulled it off, nobody knows what we've been planning for the past decade. Not that it would matter much if mother got her wish and married me off. I need to stay in the house, by Papas' side if I really want to make my debut into The Business when I turn 18.

"I don't need a husband, I'm only 17."

"You'll be 18 in two weeks, and if we don't find you a husband fast then-" I cut her off.

"Then _nothing_ , mother. I'd rather die an undesired hag, then let Mike Newton touch me. Plus he's not even Italian. "

"Newton?" Grandpa James questions.

Shit, I spoke too loudly.

Grandfather looks over until he spots the Newtons and shakes his head.

"She'll not be marrying that Newton boy."

 _Huh_? I thought he was of the opinion that all women need to be married and pregnant by sixteen. Put a baby in a bitch and she'll be too preoccupied to stick her nose in her mans affairs.

"Why not?"

 _Whoa, What the fuck, Bella, why would you ask that? Why would you continue the conversation? Are you new or something? Born yesterday? Hit on the head too much? Well . . . yes, but come on, bitch!_

He looks at me disgusted, as if he can't fathom that I just spoke out of turn.

"Do you wish to marry the boy?"

"No." I answer with my own disgusted expression.

"Then why do you ask, ' _why not'_?" He mocks.

I open and close my mouth like a gaping fish not knowing what to say. Could it be possible he's changed his stand on women and mar-

"You'll marry like a you should have already," he shoots my dad a withering look, "soon enough, but it sure as hell won't be to a Newton."

Never mind then. Wait . . . what does he mean I'll marry soon? Has he found me a husband? He can't do that, can he?

"I don't want to get married. At all." _Goddammit, why do you continue to talk? What was the first lesson you were taught when Papa took you under he's wing, Bella? Don't. Show. Your. Hand. Wether it be in poker or life, and now your vindictive grandfather knows your thoughts on the subject._ I mean it's not like he couldn't have guessed the mere idea of marriage, arranged or not, makes me sick, but now he knows! Knowledge is like candy to vindictive bastards and I've just given him quite the treat.

"Do I look like I care what you want? You'll do your duty, little girl."

 _Good going, dumbass._

•••••

Once home I followed my father into his office, seething with a rage that almost burns.

"What did Grandpa mean at brunch?" I practically shout when the heavy oak door is closed.

Papa sighs and runs a hand through his curly salt and pepper hair. Still more pepper than salt, but it's getting there.

"Beautiful-" He sighs, sitting at his desk, putting his head in his hands.

"Don't ' _Beautiful_ ' me! What is Grandpa planning?" I kick one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk out of my way and slam a fist down hard, hurting myself in the process.

Papa looks up at me slowly, the fire back in his eyes.

"You do not speak to me in that way, Isabella." He speaks slowly, intimidating me in .2 seconds.

I swallow a lump in my throat, fear coursing through my veins.

My father is not like his. He's not cruel, he doesn't mistreat his family but . . . I'd be lying if I didn't say there isn't something kindred about them.

I take a seat on the chair I didn't kick.

"I'm sorry, Papa, but please . . . You must know what he meant."

He shakes his head slowly.

"I know what his words meant, _you do too, Isabella,_ he plans on marrying you off. But this is the first he's spoken of anything related to marriage and you. I don't know his plan, not who, not when, not anything, Bella."

"You're my father, in our world it's your job to find me a husband, you can stop him, you out rank him, father over grandfather."

"I will do everything in my power to stop him, Bella, believe that, but I don't outrank him, not when he's the goddamn Don of this family!"

This is bad, so very bad.

"You should be the Don." I grumble, slouching in my chair and crossing my arms like a child.

Papa chuckles.

"One day, if I keep on the good side of the bastard, I might be, but today is not that day, Beautiful. Don't worry, the day of your eighteenth birthday, the family will know which child I've truly groomed to follow in my footsteps. Just . . . let's take our minds off this for a minute. Go practice, and I'll meet you in a few."

Doing as I was told, even though a new found sense of exhaustion settles over my bones, I change into workout clothing and head to the basement where we set up a gym.

Everything you could ever want is in this house, the beauty of money I suppose. A gym, sauna, game room, theatre, etc.

Before I even stepped into the gym I already heard the clinking of the weights.

"You're gonna give yourself a hernia one of these days, lifting so much." I call out to Em, seeing he's working with damn near his own body weight.

He just laughs and continues to pump the barbell above his chest.

"You wanna spot me?" He asks, out of breath.

I snort.

"Please, if you lose your edge and can't lift it off yourself I sure as hell won't be able to."

He chuckles and lifts the barbell back onto its holders.

"Are you ok?" He asks, sitting up and wiping away sweat from his face and neck.

"Not really, he's got something planned for me, and knowing him-"

"-It's going to be hell." Em finishes my thought.

"Yeah." I sigh.

"I'm sorry, sissy, I know that's not what you want, but maybe Dad can help, maybe talk Grandpa out of whatever he's thinking of doing." He offers weakly.

"Maybe." I agree, no real belief in the word.

"That being said, either way . . . It's going to happen sooner or later. You're going to have be married and it'll probably be arranged. Hell I'll have to as well. " Em jumps on the treadmill and begins a warm up jog.

"Ya, but it's different." I grumble, turning his speed up.

"How?"

"You're a guy, it's-" he stops the treadmill and cuts me off.

"So . . . because I'm a guy I don't want to find someone I love? Any girl will do the job?" Shit, now I've offended him.

"No, of course not, Emmett, it's just . . . You're the man, you'll be in charge of your home, your wife. As a guy you're seen as a person; a real person. I'm seen as a fucking prop to control. An extension of father like his watch or pinkie ring. As long as I'm shiny and pretty I'm worth . . . whatever it is women in this life are worth. And when I'm married, especially if I'm married to someone Grandfather choses, it'll be even worse."

Emmett nods his head but then looks down at me with amused eyes.

"You're forgetting one thing, Bells."

"What." I lightly snap, the exhaustion settling deeper.

"You're not like the other women in this life, _now are you_." He smirks and winks, walking past me where I stand, stunned.

"What do you mean by that?" I call after him.

Papa appears in the doorway and Emmett turns back to me, a full blown smile stretching across his handsome face.

"It means you and dad aren't nearly as sneaky as you think you are." He laughs at Papas' confused expression and walks out of the gym with a pat on his back. I think Emmett did it harder than he meant to though, 'cause it made Papa stumble a little bit.

"What's he talking about?" Papa asks righting himself and throwing a thumb after Em.

"It would appear we don't give that boy enough credit." I laugh, shaking my head.

Papas' confused gaze settles and a wash of realization crashes onto him.

"You think he knows about-"

"It would seem so."

"Hmm . . . I'll have to talk to him, but if I'm being honest, I'm glad. We probably should have told him sooner, I mean he's been thinking all this time-" Papas' sentence trails off as he sits on one of the weight benches.

"Yeah, that's probably wise." I agree.

He stands and locks the door to the gym.

"Alright time to get to work, Isabella."

PLEASE REVIEW!


	3. Chapter 3 AN

Many of you have commented on the title of my story, and I did speak my peace on it in an AN in Chapter two, but you might skip past those, so for those who are worried about the title, I'd like for everybody to not make a big deal out of it. I've known since the beginning that there is a good chance my story could be pulled, and while I admit it would be smarter for me to change it, this is the title I want, it means too much to me to censor if I don't absolutely have to. That being said if the story does get pulled I will immediately re upload it with F*ck instead, so if you find it missing don't worry just make sure you remember my Profile Name Broke Dujor and it WILL be back up as soon as possible. If anybody is reading this story and is thinking about reporting it, please don't, cuss words are only bad because we make them bad, they're just a form of expression that is seriously misunderstood. I always feel bad making these so A new chapter will be posted right after this.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you to all my reviewers, I deeply appreciate all the feed back, especially those who have constructive criticism, I'm always looking to evolve as a storyteller and you guys keep it real with me, therefor being the most help to me.

 **ALISON ACTUALLY** : I'm so stoked you understand my reasoning, this chapter, while probably not the most exciting, goes out to you.

The song in this chapter is called LoveFuryEnergyPassion by Boy Hits Car, you might be like me and skip lyrics, cause let's be honest it's kinda annoying to read, but they will be important to the story, do with this knowledge what you wish

* * *

I think Papa still thinks of these training sessions together as lessons but the truth is I've been ready to be on my own for a long time now. I don't mention it to him though, I know a part of him wishes I was still a little girl, sitting on his lap and playing with his chains. We lift weights, work on cardio, and spar. Papa had to teach me everything on his own, how to fight, shoot, scheme, etc. It woulda been nice to have training from more then one source like Emmett received, but at least Papa is the best there is, so you won't find me lacking. _I think_.

"Good job, Beautiful, that's enough for today . . . Umm." Papa sits back down on the weight bench and mulls over whatever it is he wants to say.

I tell myself to give him time to get his thoughts together but the silence is killing me for some reason. It's just something about the look on his face, it doesn't sit well with me.

"Is there a reason why you still want to test my fighting skills?" I ask, tearing off the wrap from my hands. "I mean I know you can never learn enough but-"

He cuts me off, head hung low, "There's only one last lesson, well two really and . . . they're not really _lessons_ , more like challenges, that you should have completed already, but I really didn't want to put you through them." He laughs humorlessly.

"What do you mean, Papa?" I ask softly.

"One challenge, I won't put you through. _I should; I did with Emmett, but I can't do it_. Call me a male chauvinist, but . . . You're my little girl, and . . . I can't do it, I'm not strong enough to see-" He abruptly stops his train of thought and starts a new one, his hands clenched in tight fists. "But the other . . . You _must_ complete before your debut."

"Papa, I'm not following you." That's a lie, I think I know what he means but somethings blocking me from letting the reality of his words settle in my mind.

He looks up at me and smiles sadly.

"You are a woman of the mafia, Beautiful, you know what I mean."

I watch him stand and walk out of the room, but without glancing my way calls out, "Be prepared for the shooting range tomorrow night."

I still feel blocked, like I can't make the connection, not because I don't understand but because my brain doesn't _want_ to. It's like it wants to protect itself so it's not letting me connect A-B.

I shake my head and decide to rewrap my fists. I need to release every ounce of energy I still have left. I've been given too many puzzles and too little pieces, I have school tomorrow and the last thing I need is to be kept awake tonight, over analyzing everything that's happened.

Once my fists are wrapped tight and safe I walk over to the sound system and blast my work out playlist.

I stretch out my muscles, swing my arms, twist my body and bend to touch my toes and walk over to the punching bag and begin really taking out all my aggressions. A couple death metal songs play in full but it's not enough, if anything I feel even worse.

It's not until the harsh beat of one of my favorite songs blasts from the speakers, fueling my frustrations, that I'm really able to let the fuck go.

I jump in place, loosening up further matching the beat and accompany guitar notes as they start out harsh and quick, _DA DA._ Then it descend and stretches, an acoustic edge highlighting the beat, repeating twice more. Then a mini climax stands alone descending again until the the beat rings out _DA DA DA DA DA DA DA_.

This is what I use to anticipate my first kick to the punching bag, like a drum roll.

" _So fuck your rules, man!_ " The lead singer, Cregg Rondell, screams in quick succession four times, to start the song off. The first, I use as my cue to kick, then I begin my one, two, three punching combos. He says it a fifth time, this time actually singing, matching the melody.

" _You step up,_

 _you'll go down fast._

 _I've got to release all the shit_

 _that has made up my past."_

I go hard on the punching bag, my hands, although wrapped up perfectly, start to ache like a mother fucker.

The song momentarily softens.

" _She's like a lost flower,_

 _growing up through a crack,_

 _in the bustling side walk,_

 _moving like a river so sad."_

The lead has a really unique sounding voice, raspy and almost exotic in it's edge. He's the kinda singer that enunciates in a way that the words blend together, and you sometimes have to look up the lyrics to know what he's saying; he so easy to misinterpret. That shit has always annoyed me, but i've noticed that when I look up the lyrics, I pay attention to them more, feel them completely. Small blessings hidden in hindrances.

 _"So hey, where we going?_

 _Tell me, where we've gone._

 _Was there Love and Fury,_

 _Energy and Pass-ion?_ "

The chorus repeats and I deliver ten sudden kicks on three different spots of the bag, only bending at the knee, taking advantage of the hastened beat.

I go back to my jabs, mixing and matching combos, singing along to my favorite line of the song. I'm so in the zone I can't tell if i'm alone in the gym anymore, but I hope I am, because I'm no Christina Aguilera, let me tell you.

 _"So go paint your face,_

 _and proclaim thy warrior soul._

 _'Cause life is a brutal fight,_

 _until we show_

 _a shade of timelessness._

 _For we are all distinct_

 _and awaiting our_

 _Trens-cend-den-tal re-lease!"_

I hug the bag to me, already tired, and hit at it feebly, some of my wild curls have escaped my ponytail and are sticking to my drenched face. I listen to the chorus repeat, but with the lyrics sung in a more suspended fashion, Rondell showing off the melody his voice can carry, until it descends again.

" _So go let your soul_

 _dance baby._

 _Time to free yourself at last._

 _Unshackle your life's spirit._

 _Fly away far from the past,_

 _'Cause it's gone._

 _Like a lost flower_

 _Growing with mad wind_

 _Like a sad river who has_

 _no end."_

I gather my strength, ignore my aching legs and ready myself for my _other_ favorite part.

" _So fuck your rules man, 'cause here comes my passion."_

He sings normally, the melody so sweet and rough; I forcibly kick the bag angrily at ' _Passion_ '.

" _So fuck your rules, man, 'cause here comes my love_." I kick once again, even harder, at ' _love_ ', jumping in place after.

" _So fuck your rules, man, here comes pure energy_." I think I let out quite the battle cry with my kick at ' _Energy_ '.

Bouncing up and down again I ready myself for my big finish.

" _So fuck your rules, man, 'cause here. Comes. My. FURY."_

At ' _fury_ ' I jump and twist and land the hardest kick yet, mid air, my other leg bent under me, making the heavy bag swing uncontrollably.

With that last hoo-rah, All my energy dissipates, dragging my frustrations with it.

I hug the bag to me, again, panting, my legs barely keeping me standing, as Rondell screams in my ear once again, to ' _fuck your rules, man.'_

I contemplate continuing, pushing my body further, but when the song ends and Lana Del Rey's, _Big Eyes_ , starts, I know, and my body agrees, that i'm finished. Although how that song got on my workout playlist, I have no idea.

I have to practically threaten myself with my own death to take a shower before going to sleep, but I find the strength before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 _ **PLEASE REVIEW**_


	5. Chapter 5

IMPORTANT: I did change my name, so make sure you're now looking for Broke Dujor

I constantly have to apologize to my readers because I'm terrible at updating my stories and this time is no different, if you are regular readers of mine I have no idea why you've stuck with me but I'm always grateful to you, I don't deserve you one bit! If your new here . . . I hope I stop disappointing with my lack of updating but real life is not the best right now. I'll try though.

* * *

School passes by me in a daze of tests that I aced, juicy gossip I'd usually partake in and nerves of the unknown.

I've been to the shooting range many, many times. I can shoot a target the size of a cherry from a mile away. But this obviously won't be a regular trip to hone my marksmanship.

If I'm being honest with myself, I know what I'll have to do. Emmett's never said anything about tests, neither has Papa, but only an idiot would be blindsided by tasks to prove your worth. But even though I know I'll have to end someone's life today for the very first time, a part of me prays, to a God I'm not sure I even believe in, that I'm wrong.

My friends are laughing beside me and I join in mindlessly but my brain is too occupied to really mean it.

This is what I've been training for since I was seven. I've dedicated my life to being something other than a housewife stuck in a prison of her own marriage. I knew this day would come, fought for the right to take my place in my families outfit and now that it's encroaching upon me, I'm floundering on the inside.

What was the point of Papa risking everything he has ever worked for, training me, if the thought of doing the hardest part of the job makes my insides twist?

"Bella? Bella, are you listening?" My friend Angela says through giggles.

I quickly turn to her with a fake sheepish smile, "Sorry, I got caught up thinking about next period, I have a killer math test after lunch."

She accepts my story with no second thought and joins back in on the conversation. Something about Jessica Stanley caught giving Mike Newton head in his car last night in the school parking lot.

What an idiot, we live in New York, there are much more conspicuous places to do that shit than a school parking lot. Lucky for her, her father is a councilmen so she didn't get expelled. And since she didn't, the school couldn't expel Mike either and keep face, so even though he's a son of a nobody, he gets to stay too. Pity.

The bell rings for lunches end, and I'm glad for it, I do have a test but it'll be cake and I can continue worrying myself sick.

"Wait, Bella, are you coming to Lauren's place tonight? Her mom is out of town and Tracy scored some X!"

I smile at Angela, wishing I could go and partake, but it wouldn't be wise to get high off ecstasy than kill someone for crimes committed against my family.

"Sorry, can't, got family stuff tonight."

She pouts but accepts my answer easily enough.

I spend my last two classes like I did my first four, on autopilot, tormenting myself with thoughts of everything that could go wrong.

 _What if I'm unable to kill?_

I know how this is going to go. My father is going to walk me through the front of the shooting range that acts as a store, where you can buy your guns and ammo. It's says it's open to the public, but everybody knows that's for political reasons. Civilians steer clear, knowing if you are not a part of the Swan outfit, you're not welcome.

We'll bypass the store that will be empty. It always is, nobody can see Papa leading me to the gun range in the back. Nobody can witness him teaching me to shoot. Nobody can know I'm not going to settle into the traditional female role this life wants to force me into.

Today will be different. Today we'll bypass the shooting terminals. We'll go deeper into the building. A soundproof room, we like to call the _Deep End_. If you find yourself falling into it, you never surface again. If you have even an _iota_ of an inkling that you're going to be taken into the _Deep End_ , you're already dead.

If I can't pull the trigger everything my father has invested in me will have been for nothing and it will be all my fault.

Honestly, that would be worst than being outed, found out and stopped by outside forces, I.e. Grandpa James. At least then it wouldn't have been my sole fault for ruining almost 11 years of hard work.

"You're going to throw up afterwards." Emmett whispers in my ear, making me gasp.

I turn suddenly, startled by him, which is not like me at all.

"What? What are you talking about? Are you sick?" I play dumb, as my heart resets itself.

Emmett smirks down at me as we wait at the front of our school for our ride to pull up.

"I know what you're going through. And trust me, if _I_ could do it, _you_ can. But you will throw up afterwards; try not to in front of Dad, but even if you do, he'll forgive you."

I just stare at my twin, shocked he's speaking so candidly about me not only killing someone within the next few hours but everything leading up to this day. Eleven years of broken protocol, spitting in the face of hundreds of years of tradition. And taking what would have rightfully been his place beside our father.

"How long have you known? Aren't you angry at what Papa and I are doing? How can you be so calm about this?" I blabber semi-hysterically under my breath.

Emmett grins down at me, his dimples popping proudly.

"I've know what you and dad have been doing since our 13th birthday, but I'm guessing you and him have been working at it a lot longer than that. No, I'm not angry. And very easily, actually."

"How did you find out?"

Em looks around us to make sure no one is eavesdropping.

"When we were sent off to bed that night, I remembered I had a present for you, remember? That necklace?"

I giggle, remembering he had found a necklace that said 'Fuckity', at a naughty novelty store he snuck into.

"Ya, I remember, I actually think I still have it somewhere in my closet."

"You better! But anyways I went to give it to you, when I overheard you and dad talking . . . " he looks at me expectantly, wanting me to fill in the blank.

And it dawns on me.

That night dad gave me my first gun. One that I could _keep_.

Emmett sees that I remember my present from dad and nods his head.

"To be honest if I hadn't overheard him giving you that gift, I probably would have continued being clueless, I mean you're a very good actress, you never gave a single hint to what you were up to, kept on complaining about dance lessons —"

"Yeah! 'Cause I was forced to keep doing them!" I point out angrily.

Even when I got my way about being trained, I still had to do what the other girls were expected to do. And what did I get for it? A useless, _to me_ , skill and feet that curve too much. Seriously they're fucking weird looking.

"Ahaha sucker," Emmett mocks, until I punch him on the shoulder halfheartedly.

"But Em . . . You do understand, that um, I'm gonna, um," _Fuck_ , I don't know how to say it and not hurt his pride.

"Gonna be dads' right hand? Yeah, I know, and I'm fine with it. You're the right person for the job."

I bite my lip, not sure I completely believe him.

"I know this isn't the life you want but wither you like it or not, this is our life and when the rest of them see that dad chose me _over his son_ , they're not gonna go easy on you."

I'm gonna have a very hard time being taken seriously, the men are not going to want to follow a woman, I know I'm going to have to prove myself at literally _every_ turn. But Emmett will too. He'll be humiliated, coming in behind a girl.

"I may not like what we're about to become, but I will do it. I won't abandon my family. And anybody that wants to give me shit, is free to do so. Don't worry about me, sissy, I'll take care of them. I'm not _always_ against the violence." He grins and I do too, a little less worried now.

It pleases me I'll have him by my side, even though I'll be Papas chosen successor, Emmett will still be by our side. But it also saddens me it's not necessarily where he would want to be if given a choice.

But at least I'll be taking the bulk of the responsibility. It's then I realize, me taking this role from Emmett is kinda setting him free. Not completely, but as much as possible.

I look up at my brother and know that I cannot fail. My actions will not only shape the future I want, but also the future Emmett wants or more precisely the future he doesn't want. If I fail he'll have to take my spot besides Papa. The last place he wants.

You would think that would make what's a head of me easier, this new weight upon my shoulders should have helped my resolve to strengthen — to protect my brother.

But instead my gut twists again, fear of failing suffocating me twice fold.

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Please review and tell me what you think, once this is posted I'm gonna try and write the next chapter and post it as soon as possible and when I'm in a writing mode, like now, reviews always help me move along.


	6. Chapter 6

Good lord there has been so many follows and favorites, I'm so thankful to you guys. I hope more people start reviewing I really want to hear feedback good, bad and everything in between.

I've noticed I haven't really been using Italian terms, so I will be changing that starting now and I will go over previous chapters and make corrections. Story won't change, just some terms to make this feel more real.

* * *

As soon as our driver, Tony, drops us off at home I walk up the steps to our front door as if I'm being lead to death row.

I've seen a lot of death — mostly by the hands of my own father. But to know _I'm_ the one that will be pulling the trigger very soon makes me feel like to walk into the house my mother has made a sanctuary for her family is all of a sudden disrespectful.

I wonder if Papa has trouble facing Mama, such a sweet loving woman, after he indulges in bloodshed.

"Hello, my darlings!" Mama chimes as we walk through the front door, making me queasy.

I can't stomach her finding out what her baby girl is going to become. What I've been doing all this time.

' _Oh yeah, mama, I've had a change of heart and can't wait for ballet class!' But secretly only 'cause Papa said If I want to learn Morse code, I can't give you anymore lip about stupid ladylike activities._

"Hey, Ma, is there any food?" Em asks, kissing her sweetly on the cheek.

Mama rolls her eyes at her son.

"No, Emmett we've transported to a third world country and food is scarce."

Emmett gives Mama a dry look, "Joke now, woman, but if that day ever comes I'll sell you for a Big Mac."

He bounces away from her swinging hand and runs off to the kitchen, Ma screaming the age old mother comeback, "I brought you into this world, I'll take you out!"

Ma gives me a kiss on the cheek and asks me how school was with a bright smile.

I smile back, momentarily forgetting what lays ahead of me and tell her all the sordid details of Mike and Jessica's fiasco.

The look of horror on my mothers face is absolutely priceless.

"He seemed like such a good boy!"

"Mother! He wears a chain attached to his wallet! That's proof enough that's he's a doucebag!"

"Language young lady!" Ma and Emmett call out at the same time making us all laugh and earning Emmett another attempted slap on the shoulder.

Mama is the first to somber, but it takes me a while to figure out why. I finally realize she's looking behind me at the entrance of the kitchen with a startled expression.

I twirl around ready to see an invasion of cops or another outfit but what I find only makes me wish it were an invasion of that sort.

"Please, don't let me ruin your good time," Nonno James, grounds out with a disturbed scowl on his face.

" _Father_?" Papa calls out, almost hiding his surprise, "What a lovely surprise." Papa with his proud but cautious stance, walks to his father, a man, while not young, no less imposing than the day he, well the day he was born probably.

"I would have announced myself, but I couldn't reach you." Nonno usually speaks so softly but even when he does his tone feels like it's cutting into your skin.

"Yes, my apologies sir, I was discussing business with —"

"Makes no difference to me what you were doing, when I call, you answer."

Nonno moves past Father with a frightening glance my way and heads straight to Papas office.

The laughter has been sucked out of the atmosphere, any movement seeming too big in the uncomfortable stillness.

Papa looks to me with a pained expression.

Oh my god. It's clicks in my head.

 _He knows._

Nonno does not show up unannounced. He is a man of structure and tradition, not everyone has such a stick up their ass about impeccable manners, especially with your own friends and family, but Nonno does.

It's no coincidence he's here on the day I'm supposed to be tested.

Papa keeps me informed on all dealings on the sly, we've crafted quite the sophisticated coded language so that if we're ever overheard on accident it will seem like we're having an innocent conversation. When in reality he's keeping me in the loop without fail.

Maybe our code has finally been cracked, I mean it was bound to happen. Or maybe we were spotted by someone and tattled on. I don't know how, but we've been compromised and now we're fucked.

Papa and Nonno have been in Papas office for maybe an hour, but it has of course felt like an eternity. I wish I could eavesdrop but Papas office is soundproof and I couldn't hide behind the painting before they entered.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Emmett asks from his seat beside me.

I don't look up from picking at my nails.

"You know what they're talking about, Emmett." I sigh.

My whole body jerks to attention as the office door opens with a flourish and Nonno walks out with something I have never seen in my almost eighteen years. A _smile_.

A scary, self-satisfied, manic smile showing off coffee stained teeth and demon intentions.

Oh god, oh no, it's bad. _It's so-o-o-o bad._

He walks past us without a glance and I'm glad, if I had made eye contact with him while he was wearing that grin I think I would have turned to stone.

"Shit." Emmett whispers, when we hear our front door close.

"Isabella?" I hear Papa call out from his now open office door.

Oh god no!

I stand too quickly, almost tipping over, Emmett catching me, my only saving grace.

"I'm okay, I'm fine." I shake off his hand and walk to the office, knowing my life is not going to be the same once I do.

I round the door frame to see my father sitting at his desk, his hands cradling his head — defeated.

I close the heavy door resting my forehead on it; I can't see my father like this.

"He knows." I whisper.

"Yes." Papa says just as softly, it's a wonder we can hear each other.

"How?"

"He didn't come right out and say he knows what we've been doing all these years, let alone how, but he made it very clear that . . . "

I turn to my father tears rolling down my cheeks without my consent.

"Just say it, Papa." It's not like I don't already know.

"He's found a suitor for you. I tried to pass off my usual story that I'm looking around for a man for you, but haven't found anyone that can be of use to me or the Outfit. I tried telling that son of a Bitch you are my daughter, it's my job to provide you with a groom, but —"

"But he reminded you Don trumps father."

He sighs angrily, his nostrils flaring, his eyes red rimmed.

I open my mouth to speak but I let out a small scream instead as he very suddenly grabs a a crystal filled with scotch and throws it against the wall to our right.

"You know what? No! Not this time it doesn't! I promised you I would not sell you to a man!"

My heart is filled with hope, We can fight this! He's willing to disobey that scum to give me the life I want, the life I deserve!

Papa is still talking, going on and on that he'll fight for me, for my rightful place in his outfit and my heart continues to lighten and brighten. God, I love my father.

"I don't care what the sick bastard will do, he can have my throat slit for all I care! You are not marrying Edward Cullen!"

Any hope I'd let myself feel turned sickly in my heart. Oh god, I'd gotten too caught up in Papa championing for me I didn't even think of the consequences deliberately disobeying my grandfather would have on my father.

He wouldn't have him killed. He's his only son, his only child period and if they die by your hand, and if Papa were to die after we disclose our plan it would be so obvious it's by Nonnos hand, he'd be disgraced no matter his reasoning.

Honestly the hope for the past eleven years has been for Nonno to croak and Papa to have taken over by now, so that we could make my debut that much smoother, no one above to stop us.

And when the old bastard never died we just came to terms with the fact that we would have to fight tooth and nail.

But that was before Nonna knew. Before he laid down the law that I'm to be married.

If Papa disobeys the Don, he won't be killed, he'll be past over as Nonnos successor.

"I have to marry the man." I whisper through a fresh wave of tears.

Papa stares at me stunned.

"Beautiful?" He whispers looking at me as if I've betrayed him.

I take a deep, jagged breath, already regretting every word I'm about to say.

"If we disobey his word, he won't kill you, he'll denounce you as his heir. He'll pass his title to one of your cousins. But we both know you should be the Don! You should have been in charge for a long time, but that asshole has been too proud to step down."

"Isabella we can think of some —"

"No, Papa, I have to do this! Say we break his law and I debut as a Made Woman, and everything goes as plan and I thrive in my role, I'm just one woman! You'll never be in charge even if he drops dead, he'll make sure of it and you will have lost everything you have worked for! But if we do as he says and I marry, what did you say his name was, Edward? If I marry Edward, you will one day take you're rightful place in this family and Champion more than me! You can work to change everyone's thinking!"

"But you will be married, Isabella! Even if I do change the minds of some, I damn will bet your husband might not be one of them! You'll be under his thumb until one of you dies!"

I walk passed the desk and hug my Papa with all the strength I have right now.

"I know. Knowing Nonno I'll probably be stuck with someone just like him. But I'm just one person. I've never wanted that life of a kept woman, but I'm not weak, I'll give just as good as I get, whatever Edward those my way. You gave me that strength. But this is bigger than me. There are so many other daughters that need your voice."

Through my speech Papas arms had been by his side but by the end he's hugging me back, squeezing the life out of me and crying softly.

I haven't seen my father cry often, but I'm glad he does now. It means he's accepted what I'm saying. I'm glad, because I mean every word, no matter how much they hurt and terrify.

"Your strength and bravery never ceases to astound me." Papa kisses my forehead, his tears marking my skin, making me shiver.

I will not be a doormat to my husband. I am strong and skilled, I'll be just fine, or die fighting.

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PLEASE REVIEW!


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